Shades of Grey
by Windchime68
Summary: When Kayla Cousland attempts to persuade her fellow Warden to participate in Morrigan's ritual, they will learn more about each other – and themselves – than either one had bargained for.  Rated M for dark/adult themes.  End-game spoilers.
1. Questions

**Shades of Grey**

_A/N: I make no claim to any of the characters in this story (except for Kayla) – they belong to others, and I simply borrowed them for a while. _

_A word of warning: this story gets very dark in places, and includes elements some might find disturbing. These are not happy, well-adjusted characters. It's rated M for a reason._

_Any comments/reviews will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.

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_

**Questions**

"_I have a way out, you see. The loop in your hole."_

Morrigan's words echo in Kayla Cousland's head as she slowly walks the short distance down the corridor to her fellow Warden's room, feeling slightly numb.

Every time she thinks that nothing else can surprise her; someone proves her wrong.

It's been one of those weeks.

More like one of those years, really.

She reaches the door and stops, realising that she needs to collect herself before speaking to him. Leaning against the wall, she takes a deep breath and tries to put her thoughts into some kind of order.

The attack on Highever Castle, and the loss of her family, was just the beginning; the catalyst that drove her to the Grey Wardens, and put her on this crazy path.

And now, it's almost over. In just a few short days, she and her two fellow Grey Wardens will be leading an attack on the archdemon; their one chance to end the Blight.

And one of them is going to die doing it.

Unless she can convince the man she's barely spoken to since the Landsmeet to go along with Morrigan's ritual.

She takes a deep breath, and knocks on Loghain's door.

oOo

_Loghain is surprised to find Kayla Cousland at his door; she's been carefully keeping her distance from him since her unexpected decision at the Landsmeet._

_He is more surprised, and a little disappointed, to note that something has clearly unsettled her. He had thought her better able to retain her composure than that._

oOo

Loghain listens to her proposal in silence, an indifferent sneer on his face. He lets her finish, and then utters just a single word in response.

"No."

Her eyes narrow. "No. Just like that. No. That's your answer."

"It is."

Anger boils up inside her. "Maker's blood, Loghain, you owe me! I spared your worthless hide, and doing so cost me the best friend I ever had! You don't get to just say 'no'!" She is breathing hard by the time she finishes, and she clenches her jaw, trying to control herself.

This is why she's been avoiding him, because she knew she wouldn't be able to keep her temper under control.

"Worthless, is it?" he growls. "Then I wonder why you troubled to spare me at all."

"I've been asking myself that question every moment since," she snarls. "And compared to Alistair? Yes, I'd say worthless fits. He's ten times the man you are."

Loghain springs up from his chair in a sudden fluid movement, his eyes flashing cold fire. "Not man enough to stay by your side when things didn't go his way, though. Was he?"

Kayla clenches her fists, shaking with fury. "Don't you dare speak about him that way."

oOo

_Loghain is impressed. There are not so many men who can hold his gaze when he turns his icy stare on them. But there she is, this pretty little blonde thing, younger by several years than his daughter, meeting him stare for stare. He towers over her, yet she's not giving an inch. She's got steel in her._

_No wonder Maric's bastard doted on her so. She has the backbone he lacked._

_He must stop underestimating this woman. It is not the first time she has surprised him; at the Landsmeet, he had almost laughed at her when she offered to face him herself in single combat._

_She had soon wiped the confident smile from his face. Her skill and speed with her blades is nothing short of awe-inspiring, even to such a seasoned warrior as he. And he'd quickly discovered that the leather armour she favours had been quite sufficient to deflect the few blows he'd managed to land; most of his strikes had either been neatly parried, or had fallen on thin air, while she dodged away to find another chink in his armour for her dagger to penetrate. She'd worn him down more quickly than he'd have thought possible._

_He chuckles humourlessly. "Look at you: Bryce's little spitfire, all grown up and playing with the boys, and yet here you are pining for your lost love."_

_She goes deathly still, and her face pales. He's hit a nerve, it seems. Good. Let's see how deep that steel goes._

"_What did you call me?" she says, her voice quiet and flat._

_He arches his brows. Not quite the response he'd expected. _

"_Bryce's little spitfire?" He shrugs. "It's what your father called you, his little spitfire, when he spoke of you to others. You didn't know this?"_

_She's visibly shaking. "Rendon Howe called me that, once." Her voice is ice cold. "Right before I killed him." She takes a step toward him, and her hand goes to the pommel of her sword. "Was it you, Loghain? Did you put him up to murdering my family? Shall I number that among your crimes, too?"_

_He sneers. "Was I not absolved of my crimes, when I agreed to submit to your Joining ritual?" She opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off. "But no, that was Howe's agenda, not mine."_

_She swallows. "If I ever find out otherwise, Loghain, I will make you pay, Grey Warden or no. I promise you that." She makes a visible effort to relax. _

_He simply nods. "I would expect no less." He studies her for a moment, and she shifts uncomfortably under his assessing gaze, unconscious of the movement._

oOo

How had it come to this? It was supposed to be her and Alistair standing together against the archdemon. But now Alistair was gone, and in his stead, she had Loghain.

Loghain Mac Tir. He'd been a hero, a legend, once. The Hero of River Dane. He'd been _her_ hero, growing up. As a little girl, she'd dreamed of meeting a man like Loghain, who'd sweep her off her feet and fight monsters for her.

As she'd grown older, her dreams had turned to becoming a hero, just like him. He'd been the reason she'd wanted to become a fighter, a warrior. He'd been her inspiration.

Until he'd betrayed everything that mattered.

Perhaps his slate has now been wiped clean of those deeds, as he was so quick to remind her. As a Grey Warden, he can certainly no longer be held to account for them.

But he still bears the responsibility for them, and she wants to know _why_.

oOo

_Loghain doesn't bother to hide his amusement at the question. "Why? You want to know why I withdrew my troops at Ostagar?"_

"_Not just that, all of it. Why you left your king to die. Why you abandoned the Grey Wardens to their fate and then tried to blame them for your deed. Why you sent an assassin after us. Why you tried to have Arl Eamon killed. Need I go on?"_

_Loghain stares at her steadily. "I will answer your question, if you answer one of mine."_

_Kayla doesn't hesitate. "Ask, then. _I_ have nothing to hide."_

"_Was Maric's bastard your lover?"_

_She blanches, clenching her fists. "Don't call him that. Don't you dare."_

_He scoffs. "Is it my fault that his father was indiscreet? I call him bastard because that is what he is."_

"_He has a _name_," she seethes. Then she shakes her head vehemently. "No, never mind. I don't want to hear his name from your lips. You don't get to talk about him, not you. Not when you're the reason he left." _

"_I? It was your decision, as I recall."_

_Her knuckles go white as she clenches her fists tighter still._

_He gazes impassively at her, waiting for her temper to cool._

_After a moment she takes a deep breath. "I will answer your question, Loghain, because I agreed to do so. But after that, we will never discuss him again. Is that clear?" He gives her a curt nod, and she continues. "I loved him dearly, yes – as a friend. He was my best friend in the entire world. But there was never more than that between us."_

_Loghain snorts. "On your side, perhaps. Anyone could see the fool doted on you."_

_Her expression saddens, and she doesn't even react to his calling the man a fool. "I know," she says softly._

_Loghain raises an eyebrow. "You clearly cared for him a great deal, and the man adored you – and you were never tempted to take him to your bed?"_

"_No! Our relationship wasn't like that!" she snaps. She looks down, and adds in a much quieter voice, "He deserved better than that."_

_He stares at her incredulously. "You think _Alistair_ was too good for _you_? Why, because he was the son of a king?"_

_Kayla's head snaps up to meet his gaze. "No. Because he was a good man, and he deserved someone who would love him in return." _

_Loghain considers this for a moment. "The elf, then?" he suggests._

_Her eyes narrow. "You're asking if Zevran was my lover, now? Why the sudden interest in my love life, Loghain?"_

_He allows himself a thin smile. The subject is clearly one that she is uncomfortable discussing, which is reason enough for him to press it. He wishes to test her mettle, and assess her weaknesses. _

_It comes as naturally as breathing to him._

_He shrugs. "I simply wish to know if you are likely to be susceptible to distractions during the battle to come. An absent lover can be such a distraction. So can a lover in peril."_

"_Then let me make it clear for you," she says coldly. "None of my companions were bedfellows. We were a little busy trying to stay alive, and preparing to fight a damn _war_."_

_Loghain arches his brows at her. "That rarely prevents such liaisons – indeed, it tends to makes most people seek them more. You showed commendable restraint, if so; that is a long time to go without... intimacy."_

"_Oh, you have no idea," she laughs bitterly._

_He catches the implication in her words, and his eyes widen in surprise. "A pretty thing like you? Surely you cannot have been short of offers."_

"_I guess I just never met the right man," she says icily._

_Loghain chuckles. "I confess, now I am intrigued. What high standards would such a man need to meet, to make him so very rare an individual?"_

_She spins on her heel and walks to the window, her face hidden from him. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't exist." She pauses, and then adds quietly, "Not any more. Perhaps he never did."_

_Loghain frowns, but before he can ask anything further she turns to face him again, her expression stony. "I've more than answered your question. It's time you answered mine."_

oOo

Loghain gives a slight nod of his head. "Very well. You wish to know why I withdrew my men at Ostagar? Why I left my king to die?" His eyes narrow in remembered anger, and he begins to pace restlessly. "Because my king was an impulsive fool who ignored the advice of his general, and put me in an impossible position."

"I don't recall you arguing very hard with him at the war council before the battle," Kayla points out coldly.

"And you think that was our sole discussion about the battle?" Loghain sneers. "Foolish girl. It was but the last of many. We had been over strategies time and again, and I had made my concerns more than plain to him, but Cailan would have none of it. I told him it was too dangerous to lead the charge himself, but he would have his moment of glory, going into battle with the Grey Wardens."

"But you said the plan would suffice! Have you forgotten that I was there, Loghain? I heard you say it!"

He whirls on her. "And so it might have, had you lit the beacon sooner! By the time the signal came, Cailan and his men would have been overrun; their fate was already sealed. Should I have sent my men to die as well, then? What purpose would that have served? It would simply have assured Ferelden's defeat!" He is shaking with barely-suppressed rage. "No, I did what any good general would have done. I ensured that an army remained to face the enemy another day. An army that will be much needed in the days to come."

She realises that she is shaking, too. "We got there as fast as we could," she whispers. "There were darkspawn in the tower. We had to fight our way through."

He smiles mirthlessly. "You see? You would paint me as the villain, but things are not quite so black and white, are they?"

"That doesn't explain why you tried to blame it all on the Grey Wardens!" she cries

He gives her a contemptuous glance as he resumes his pacing. "Does it not? If not for the Grey Wardens indulging him, Cailan would not have been so bold, so determined to have his moment of glory. He would have listened to reason, and not been at the forefront of the battle. They are indeed the reason he died that day, not I."

She laughs incredulously. "You actually believe that, don't you? Does it soothe your conscience, Loghain, to blame it all on someone else? If you were so certain that it was the Grey Wardens' fault, and not yours, why go to such lengths to hunt down those who could tell what _really_ happened?"

He halts his pacing in mid-stride, and in a single swift movement he turns towards her and closes the distance between them. Before she can react, he has his hands on her upper arms and his momentum propels her backwards, to slam against the wall behind her. The impact knocks the breath from her lungs.

"Because it was up to me to save Ferelden!" he snarls at her. "Again! We needed a strong leader if we were to wipe these darkspawn from our lands! Ferelden needed to be united, and I could risk no dissenting voices!" He breathes heavily. "I did what was necessary. I have _always_ done what was necessary! Even when it cost me dearly!"

"What do you know of cost?" she retorts breathlessly. "Tell me, Loghain – what have you ever lost?"

He pales, and his eyes flash with icy rage. His fingers dig into the bare flesh of her arms as he clenches his hands in anger. "You think you are the only one, then, to have lost loved ones?" He clenches his jaw. "My mother was slain by a filthy Orlesian in front of me, after he forced us to watch him rape her, in order to teach us a _lesson_ in obedience. My father gave his life to buy a foolish young prince time to escape from Orlesian soldiers and sympathisers. And I pushed the woman I loved into marrying that same fool, so that she could give him the strength to rule a nation!" His rant runs down and he glares at her silently, daring her to belittle his losses.

It takes her a moment to process his words, and when she does, she stares at him in shock. "You... you're talking about Queen Rowan, aren't you?"

oOo

_Loghain's eyes widen in surprise as he realises just how much he has given away, in his anger. He has never spoken of Rowan in that manner before, not even obliquely – not to anyone._

_His hands clench tighter in his fury, and Kayla lets out a little gasp that she immediately tries to bite back. He glances down, and sees just how tight his grip on her arms is._

_Damn, but this girl brings out the darkness in him, along with the emotions and memories that he normally keeps so carefully buried. _

_He tears his hands from her arms, leaving stark white imprints behind that slowly turn red as the blood rushes back in, and spins away._

"_You will never speak that name again," he says quietly, his back to her._

oOo

Kayla watches Loghain warily. She resists the temptation to rub her arms, even though his back is turned and he will not see.

She is going to bear the bruises from his rough handling tomorrow, but she refuses to show weakness in his presence .

And she certainly isn't about to let on how much he frightened her.

After facing him at the Landsmeet, and winning, she is surprised – and a little ashamed – that he managed to scare her so easily. She isn't normally afraid of anything.

But what else but fear could have had her heart racing and her blood pounding like that?

"Well, then," she says, hoping Loghain won't hear the slight shake in her voice. "It seems we both have things we don't wish to discuss. So let us return to the subject that brought me here: Morrigan's ritual."

He turns, scorn painted across his face. "And what purpose would that serve? I have already told you my answer."

"An answer given in haste, and not fully considered," she retorts. "Are you so eager to die, then?"

"Eager? No. But if it comes to that, yes, I would give my life to destroy the archdemon, and save Ferelden," he says coldly. "Gladly. And Riordan has already offered the same. What need is there, then, of this _ritual_?"

"And what if I don't want you to die?"

oOo

_The words hang between them as he stares at her in bafflement. "Why would you wish me to live?" he asks finally._

"_Maybe I don't want you to die a damn hero!" she snaps. "Maybe I don't think your redemption should be earned that easily! Maybe I don't trust you to take that final blow, when push comes to shove!" _

_He has no answer for that. _

_There is a prolonged pause, and then she adds in a quieter voice. "Maybe I've just lost too much already. Maybe I simply refuse to sacrifice anything, or anyone, else." Without warning, the steel breaks, and she sags against the wall, looking like a scared little girl. "I just want it all to be _over_, but it won't be, will it? Killing the __archdemon won't be the end of it. The Grey Wardens will need to be rebuilt." She looks at him, wide-eyed. "I'm a fighter, and a damn good one; but I'm no leader of __men, whatever Eamon and Anora may think. I can't do it all alone, Loghain. I'm going to need help, in the days to come." Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. "I'm going to need _your_ help."_

_She trembles, and he sees just how much it has cost her to maintain her tough exterior all this time. And he sees exactly how much it has cost her to drop it now, and reveal that weakness to him._

_Oddly, it just makes her seem all the stronger for it._

_He resists a fleeting impulse to stride over to her and sweep her into his arms, offering her a father's comfort as he has done so often for Anora._

_She needs his strength, not his comfort._

_And it suddenly occurs to Loghain that a father figure is not what he wants her to see him as._

_What is it about this girl? He is long past being swayed by a pretty young face, and yet she stirs feelings in him that he hasn't felt in a very long time._

_And then he sees it. That familiar fire in her eyes, dimmed but not extinguished by her current uncertainty. It jolts him back to his own youth, reminding him of the only woman he ever truly loved._

_Rowan._

_She has the same fire, the same spirit, as Rowan._

_He wonders why he didn't see it before._

_And then he wonders what to do about it._

oOo

Kayla swallows, mortified by her own outburst. She'd been so determined to be strong, but Loghain has had her off-balance from the moment she entered the room. One minute she's furious with him, and the next she's _begging_ him for help, as if she hasn't been holding everything and everyone together on her own all this time.

But she hasn't been on her own, has she? She's had Alistair to lean on, and she hadn't realised how much she'd come to rely on him until he wasn't there any more. She hasn't felt this lost since...

Since she learned of Loghain's withdrawal at Ostagar.

It hits her then: it isn't only Loghain that she's mad at; it's Alistair too. She's angry at them both for much the same reason: each of them has let her down.

Which is ridiculous, she tells herself. The two situations aren't remotely comparable. Loghain walked away from a crucial battle, and his betrayal cost countless lives, including that of his own king. Alistair walked away from the Wardens, and it hasn't cost anything.

Except the part of her heart that he took with him.

She didn't love Alistair, not in the way she knew he loved her. But she _needed_ him, _depended_ on him, and he abandoned her without a second thought

Oh, she'd known that Alistair would be angry when she agreed to spare Loghain. She'd expected him to protest, shout, maybe sulk for a while.

But never for a moment had she thought he'd _leave_.

He never even gave her a chance to explain her decision to him.

It hurts.

But she can no longer afford the indulgence of dwelling on the past. She needs to look ahead, and focus all her energies on the battle to come.

oOo

_Loghain sees the hurt and pain flicker briefly across her eyes, and then she draws herself up with a new resolve. _

"_So. Will you aid me, Loghain Mac Tir, or not? Do you really want to help Ferelden, or are you just interested in your own glory?"_

_He bristles at her implied accusation. "I have never wanted glory. I sought power only as a means to an end, never for its own reward."_

_She arches her brow sceptically. "And do you really believe the end justified those means, Loghain?"_

"_I do," he asserts firmly. "And I do not expect one so young to understand. I was fighting for Ferelden's freedom, for its very survival, long before you were born, girl. There is no price I will not pay to see that Ferelden endures."_

_Kayla meets his gaze, undeterred. "Then prove it."_

_He sighs, and nods once. Her arguments, weak as they are, do have some merit. And though he is willing to die for Ferelden, he is not _eager_ to. _

_And he is growing weary of the discussion. "Very well."_

_She looks startled; she doesn't seem to have expected that response._

_He's a little surprised himself._

"_You'll do it? You'll do the ritual?"_

_He nods again, not troubling to disguise his distaste. "Yes. Though I will not pretend that participating in such forbidden magic does not trouble me. Nor will I pretend that the thought of lying with the marsh witch does not fill me with disgust. I would sooner lie with a viper."_

I would sooner lie with _you_.

_The thought rises unbidden, and the images that accompany it are not unpleasant._

_What would her response be, he wonders, were he to voice that particular thought aloud?_

_Would she be appalled? Disgusted? Would she strike him?_

_Worse, would she laugh at him?_

_Or would her breath quicken as it did when he pushed her against the wall?_

_Perhaps, if they both survive the coming battle, he will take the chance to find out._

oOo

Loghain turns towards the door, and then pauses, looking back at her. "You _have_ considered that this child the apostate means to spawn may grow to be an even greater threat than the one we we now face?"

"Of course I have!" she snaps. "But if we cannot defeat the archdemon and rebuild the Grey Wardens in Ferelden to their former strength, future threats won't matter!"

He nods slowly. "So, the ends justify the means, then?" He smiles humourlessly as she stares at him, allowing her a moment for the words to sink in. "Perhaps we are not so unalike after all." He turns away before she can speak. "So bet it. Let us find the marsh witch and do this thing quickly, before I change my mind."


	2. Need

_A/N: Thank you to those of you who have read, reviewed, favourited or alerted this story - I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Also, I meant to say this when posting chapter 1, but I want to give a shout out to Piceron, whose Loghain stories inspired me to write one of my own, and whose ceasless encouragement has kept me on track with this story and others. Thanks Pic. :)_

_It's been asked if this will be an ongoing story or a one-shot. The answer is somewhere between the two. I tend to think of this story as a very long one-shot split into three chapters - it's definitely not going to be an epic. I don't entirely rule out continuation stories, but I don't foresee any at present.  
_

_This chapter is darker than the first, and the third (and final) chapter will be the darkest of all.  
_

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**Need**

"_You'll have to forgive me if I shut my eyes and think of my dead wife." He keeps his tone carefully neutral, his expression impassive, and his eyes on the witch._

_He wants neither one of these young women to guess at his true thoughts._

_It is not Celia he will be thinking of during the act, of that much he is certain. Nor yet Rowan, despite the reminders of her he has had these past few hours._

_And it surely will not be the witch herself._

_He risks a single glance over his shoulder as Morrigan leads him from the room. Kayla is watching them, and the expression on her face is a confusion of mixed feelings. There is grim satisfaction there, and relief, and even a hint of contempt. But the one that surprises him is remorse._

_And is it just wishful thinking on his part, or is there the faintest trace of jealousy, as well?_

oOo

Kayla remains standing in her room, her eyes on the closed door, for several minutes before she shakes her head and begins peeling off her armour.

It has been a long, troubling day.

She ought to be thinking ahead to the battle; considering strategies, planning how best to fight the archdemon.

Instead, as she lets her leathers fall to the floor, she finds her mind toying with an image of Loghain removing his own armour while Morrigan watches.

She is horrified to find that the thought of it brings a heated flush to her cheeks.

She sinks onto her bed and draws her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

Why would she even _think_ about that? Bad enough that she had to persuade Loghain to take part in it, against his wishes. Whatever would he think of her _visualising_ it?

It's just natural curiosity, she decides. Having never done the deed herself, she can't help but wonder about it.

It has nothing at all to do with the odd look in his eyes as he left the room.

Or with the memory of his hands on her arms.

She envisages Loghain pushing Morrigan down onto the bed, the way he pushed her against the wall. And then she imagines his hands in other places, and can't help wondering what that would feel like.

She crawls under the bed covers, intending to try to sleep. But shutting her eyes only intensifies the visions. Images of Loghain and Morrigan, together, flood her mind, and it's no longer solely embarrassment she feels in response to them.

It's something much more primal.

Maker knows, there have been nights – many, many nights – when she's wanted to throw all common sense aside, and find out what it would be like to lie with a man.

Alistair might have been willing to show her. Zevran would have been more than willing.

But Alistair had wanted more from her than she could give. He had wanted a love that she didn't feel, and she cared too much for him to pretend otherwise.

And Zev... His happy-go-lucky attitude was much more amenable to a casual fling. But it would have hurt Alistair, and so she couldn't do that, either.

But Alistair is gone. So what, exactly, is stopping her now?

They are on the verge of a massive battle, one that could see any or all of their lives ended. Would it be so terrible, then, to go to Zev's chamber right now, and finally satisfy her curiosity? If not now, then when?

She is deathly tired of waiting for the man of her dreams to arrive.

She tries to imagine herself with Zev, and for a moment the image is a pleasing, and arousing, one; but then his blond hair darkens and turns black, and his face morphs into someone else altogether.

Loghain.

Why can't she get the blasted man out of her thoughts?

She certainly doesn't want her first time to be with Loghain, of all people. The very idea of it is unthinkable.

And yet she can't seem to _stop_ thinking it.

Her fantasies seem to have come full circle.

Loghain Mac Tir. There was a time when he was, quite literally, the man of her dreams. But that seems a very long time ago. She was a naïve young girl then. And he was still a hero.

He's no hero now. But then, neither is she. She's made mistakes, done things she isn't proud of, in the name of saving Ferelden from the Blight. She numbers a bard, an assassin and a murderous barbarian among her companions. She's manipulated, she's bullied, she's cajoled, to get the results she wanted.

She's done so as recently as this very night.

_Perhaps we are not so unalike after all._

His words seem to mock her, now.

Is he wrong? _Are_ they so very different?

Or is he, perhaps, exactly the man she deserves?

oOo

_Loghain exits the marsh witch's room without a backward glance._

_It had seemed to give her a perverse pleasure to inform him that the ritual was complete, and that he had performed his part _adequately_._

_He had simply nodded, relieved that the ordeal was over, and stopped only to pull on his underclothes and gather up his armour before making for the door. _

_His performance might have been 'adequate', but he has never felt less satisfied in his life._

_He had hoped to make the experience more bearable with thoughts of Kayla, but while they had certainly helped to inflame his desire, the witch's precise demands had kept his head firmly in the reality of it all._

_And now he's left with a still-burning desire, and no palatable means of quenching it._

_The walk back to his own room takes him past hers, and his steps falter. For a brief moment he considers just going in and..._

_No, he dare not. There is a shadow lurking in him tonight, a darkness that the witch's ritual has only fuelled. He feels as if he is standing at the brink of his sanity, and it would take so very little to push him over the edge. _

_If he lets his desires overtake him, and she does not want that from him..._

_He has never done violence to a woman outside of combat, and he doesn't mean to start now._

_With a wordless growl he picks up his pace and hurries past her door, to his own chamber._

_He slams the door open, not caring if he wakes anyone, and hurls his armour to the floor, releasing some of his frustration in the process._

_A tiny gasp startles him, and it is only then that he sees her, huddled in the chair in the corner, her eyes wide and dark in the firelight._

oOo

Kayla knows she has made a mistake as soon as the door crashes open.

Loghain doesn't even see her at first, but his anger at having been made to perform the ritual with Morrigan is plain to see, and she can't help but flinch when he casts his armour aside with a force that shocks her.

Her intake of breath draws his attention, and she flinches again as his gaze falls on her. The firelight casts odd shadows across his face, making his expression near impossible to read. But the look in his eyes seems positively murderous.

And he stands between her and the door.

She must have lost her senses, to come here.

He stares at her silently for a long minute, like a hawk sizing up its prey. And then he slowly closes the door behind him, never taking his eyes off her. She tries, and fails, to suppress an involuntary shiver.

"Why are you here?" he demands in a low, dangerous voice.

How can she answer that, when she barely understands it herself?

All she knows is that there is an aching need in her that is demanding fulfilment. But she seems to have chosen the wrong man to fulfil it.

He closes the gap between them in a smooth movement. "Why are you here?" he repeats coldly. "Come to gloat, perhaps, at your achievement?" His lips pull into a mirthless, mocking smile. "Well, I am your puppet, it seems. Does my lady wish me to dance for her some more?"

"No!" She stares at him in horror. Is that what he thinks, that she is just using him for her own ends?

_Well, aren't you? _a dark voice inside her whispers.

Small wonder he is angry.

"I'm not here to gloat," she insists, doing her best to swallow down her fear. "And I don't think you're anyone's puppet, Loghain. Certainly not mine."

He leans down and grips the arms of the chair, his own arms and body forming a temporary prison around her.

"Then. Why. Are. You. Here?" Each word is forced out between gritted teeth.

"I don't know!" she cries, looking up at him. With the fire now behind him, only the moonlight from the window falls on his face, and his eyes sparkle like ice in its cold light.

He's truly scaring her now.

And she has never felt more alive.

He suddenly shifts his weight and grabs her arms, pulling her roughly to her feet

At the Landsmeet, she bested him handily. But that was in armed combat, and she came to his room with neither weapon nor armour.

Stupid, _stupid._

In an unarmed brawl, he has the advantage of size and strength over her; there is no way she can fight him and win. But she refuses to give in to her fear and cower before him.

So she wrenches one arm free of his grip and slaps him, hard, across one cheek.

He draws in a rapid, surprised breath, and then lets it out again in a hiss. His free hand comes up to rub his jaw, and his eyes glint dangerously as he turns his gaze back on her.

His mouth contorts into an icy smile.

With no warning, his hand darts out and seizes her by the throat. He catches her off-balance, and before she can react, he is spinning her around and she finds herself, once again, pinned against the wall.

Her heart pounding, she beats and pulls ineffectually at his arm, waiting for him to tighten his grip and squeeze the breath out of her.

But he doesn't. He simply holds her there, applying just enough pressure to keep her from escaping or calling out for help. There is a calculating, almost feral look in his eyes.

Abruptly he lunges towards her, and his hand slides around to the back of her neck as his mouth presses down on hers in a rough, hungry kiss.

Her heart races, and her body feels like it is on fire.

A moment later she is returning the kiss with a fervour easily the equal of his.

oOo

_Loghain feels his self-control, what precious little he has left, slipping as her lips part willingly beneath his, and her lithe body presses towards him instead of trying to to pull away. _

_He is losing himself._

_He tangles a hand into her hair and tugs, forcing her head back as he breaks the kiss. As she looks up at him with a whimper of pain and disappointment he locks his gaze onto hers._

"_If you ever mean to stop me, woman, then for both our sakes, do it now," he growls. "If this is not what you want, then leave, and leave _now_." He tightens his grip on her arm briefly, to illustrate his point, and then releases her and steps back. "Do you understand me?"_

_Her breaths are short and fast, and her face is flushed. She bites her lip, seemingly unaware that she is doing so._

"_And what if this _is_ what I want?" she asks slowly, taking a small step toward him and looking directly into his eyes. "What then?"_

_It's all the permission Loghain needs._

"_Then," he says, reaching out and pulling her the rest of the way to him, eliciting a gasp from her, "I think we are done talking." _

_He reaches down and grasps the hem of her nightshirt, tugging it upwards. She doesn't resist as he pushes her arms above her head and pulls the garment all the way off, tossing it aside._

_She is wearing nothing else, and he swallows tightly as his gaze roves up and down her body, appreciating her naked form. _

_He runs a calloused hand across the soft skin of her breasts, and she shivers and moans at his touch, her eyes half-closed. _

_He moves his hand lower, down across her belly, and then lower still, pushing between her legs. She gasps and her eyes fly wide open as his fingers probe. She arches towards him, wanting more._

_His lust overpowers him, and he spins her around, keeping her off-balance; something he hadn't managed to do at the Landsmeet. He propels her backwards and roughly pushes her, almost throws her, onto the bed._

_She watches him silently, her breaths coming shallow and fast, as he swiftly sheds his shirt and smallclothes, and then advances towards her._

_He is far less gentle than he should be, but she doesn't seem to mind. Indeed, she is not so gentle herself, as her fingers dig into his back. He is fortunate that she has a fighter's hands, and not a lady's – her fingernails are too short to do any serious harm._

_There are no displays of affection, no whispered endearments, no soft caresses. There is only the shared urgency of lust and passion. _

_It is only when she lets out a sharp cry of pain that he recalls her earlier hint that she had never lain with a man before. _

_Damn him, he should have remembered that. _

_He tries to rein in his ardour, but she whimpers a protest and claws at his back, urging him on with wordless little moans. The tenuous hold he has on conscious thought unravels, and he lets go, answering her need with his own._

oOo

Kayla lies back and stares at the silken canopy above, sweat already cooling on her body, muscles aching from unfamiliar uses.

_Is that how it's supposed to be?_

She is a little underwhelmed by the experience. From the way people talk, she had expected... more.

Her disappointment must be writ clear on her face, for Loghain suddenly speaks, his voice low and bitter. "You could have chosen better for your first lover than an old man driven half mad with lust."

She turns her head to see him watching her, his expression unreadable.

"Only half?" she teases, covering the awkwardness with humour – a bad habit she has picked up from Alistair.

His mouth twitches into a faint hint of a smile. "You have not yet robbed me of _all_ self-control." The almost-smile fades. "But close enough, it seems."

"Does it...?" She hesitates, and then blurts out, "Does it always hurt like that?"

He does smile then, a gentler smile than she would have imagined possible on his face. "No. The first time can be... unpleasant for the woman, I'm told. It should not be so again. You will find your next encounter to be more enjoyable, I think."

She stares at him for a long moment, considering his words. Then she makes a decision. "Show me."

He arches a brow at her. "You would have me perform on demand? I am indeed your puppet, then." He does not seem amused.

"No, that's not what I..." She lets out a little growl of frustration, and then takes a breath. "Please, Loghain... will you show me?"

oOo

_Her request catches him unawares. It is not the question itself that surprises him, but the fact that she is asking at all. Not telling, not demanding, not manipulating, not fighting him for the upper hand – but simply asking._

_She seems oddly vulnerable because of it, and he finds that disconcerting; not least because his instinctual response to it is to give her exactly what she wants, simply because she wants it._

_He tells himself it's because _he_ wants it. What man his age wouldn't? For that matter, what man _half_ his age wouldn't be aroused by a pretty, young, naked girl in his bed, begging him to please her?_

_It's an intoxicating combination._

_And there is probably little he can do about it._

_He barks a bitter laugh. "I am no virile young stud, woman. You must forgive me if I cannot rise to the occasion again so soon."_

_She rolls on to her side and nestles close to him, her body brushing against his in interesting ways, and tentatively reaches out. In spite of his assertions, his own body begins to respond under her hand, and he lets out a groan of desire._

"_Are you certain of that?" she almost purrs, a wicked gleam in her eye. "It does not seem to be a problem, from what I can see." _

_The throaty tone in her voice is enticing, her touch more so, and he feels himself growing hard once more. With a swift movement he flips her onto her back, catching her wrists in his hands as he straddles her._

_She gasps, her eyes wide, and he smiles crookedly down at her. "Unhand me, woman, unless you want this to be over as quickly as the last time."_

_This time, he makes certain her needs are as well attended to as his own, and the way she responds leaves no doubt that she is, indeed, finding the second time far more pleasurable than the first._

oOo

When Kayla wakes, her head is on Loghain's shoulder, and his arm is curled possessively around her waist. She looks up to find him silently watching her. She wonders if he's slept at all.

A faint smile plays around his lips. "I trust my lady was more... satisfied... with her second experience?"

She smiles contentedly. "You could say that, yes." Then she frowns at him. "Don't call me that. The life of a noblewoman is far behind me; I'm no lady."

He reaches out with his other hand, and trails it up her thigh. "After this night, I would have to agree." His eyes glint with dark humour.

"Hey!" She feigns indignation, and punches a fist towards him playfully. "You weren't such a gentleman yourself."

He captures her wrist easily in his hand, deflecting the intended blow, and acknowledges the comment with a slight incline of his head. "I confess," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "now I really _am_ curious. What became of those high standards you held all men to and found them all wanting? Surely _I_ am not the man you were waiting for all this time."

She feels herself flush, and looks down, unable to meet his eyes.

There is a moment's silence, and then he lets out his breath in a rush. "Ah." She feels him nod. "I remember a young girl," he says slowly, "who came to court on occasion with her father. And while most girls her age swooned over the handsome young prince, I would catch this one girl's eyes following me, instead." She closes her eyes in embarrassment; she had no idea she had ever been so obvious, nor that he had noticed.

His tone grows sober. "I thought it a harmless crush, one I had all but forgotten. And I _had_ forgotten that it was you, Kayla Cousland." He sighs heavily. "Had I remembered..." He shakes his head, and a bitter note creeps into his voice. "So how does the reality fare against your fantasy, girl? Was it all you dreamed of?" He barks a laugh, and the bitterness in it is marked now.

"It's not like that," she mutters. Reluctantly, she meets his gaze, and recoils from the unexpected anger she sees there. "I didn't come here looking for a fantasy. I'm not some lovestruck idiot. I just... I wanted to..." She blushes, suddenly embarrassed by her own boldness in coming to his room.

His mouth pulls into a sneer. "I'm happy I could oblige, then. And I do thank you for a most pleasant tumble." His tone is ice cold, and she stares at him in shock. He turns away, pulling his arm free, and swings his legs over the side of the bed, sitting with his back towards her. "You had best return to your own chamber, before everyone rises and awkward questions are asked."

Her cheeks flaming with shame and anger, she gets out of his bed and looks for her nightshirt, inwardly berating herself for her naivety.

For a moment there, she had thought she'd seen some real tenderness beneath that cold exterior. But his brusque dismissal makes it all too clear that he had simply taken what was freely offered, and leaves her feeling little better than a cheap whore.

oOo

_Loghain walks to the window and stands there, looking out across the lake, waiting for her to leave._

_His keen ears hear every sound she makes, as she pads softly across the floor in her bare feet. He hears her pick up the nightshirt from the corner he'd thrown it into, and put it on. He hears her footsteps receding towards the door, and then they stop, and there is silence._

_He feels her eyes boring into his back, but he doesn't turn around. A moment later, he hears the door open, and she is gone._

_He lets out the breath that he was holding, and sinks wearily into the chair by the window._

_He should not have allowed this to happen._

_True, she was the one who came to his room, the one who said it was what she wanted. But she is a young fool, and he old enough to know better._

_He should have recalled the crush she once had on him. If he had remembered that, he would have turned her away, no matter how much he wanted her._

_A one-off liaison, a single casual encounter: that was one thing. But this?_

_Perhaps she even believes that her heart is not involved, that she came to him for sex alone. But he saw it in her eyes, the moment he playfully asked about being the man she had been waiting for._

_There is some part of her that believes he _is_ that man. And that he cannot allow._

_That way lies only disaster, and fatal distraction._


	3. Answers

_A/N: The latter half of this chapter proved extremely difficult to write to my satisfaction, and I'm still not sure I've got the tone and the character's reactions right. But if I think about it too hard I'm probably going to bottle out of posting it altogether, so I'm just going to go for it. Any thoughts welcome!_

_

* * *

_

**Answers**

"Who will be going with you into the city?"

Riordan's question hangs in the air as Kayla's companions turn towards her, awaiting her answer.

It's the moment she's been dreading.

Each of them is more than willing to help her fight through the darkspawn-infested city, and to face the archdemon with her. Indeed, most of them will be affronted if she asks them to stay behind.

But, given the circumstances, she can see only one possible choice.

Only three people know about the agreement she made with Morrigan: the apostate herself, Kayla, and Loghain. And she has realised in the long hours of the march to Denerim that she cannot risk anyone else learning of it.

How can the Grey Wardens maintain the respect they will need to rebuild the order, if it becomes known that they are willing to consort with dark magic in order to preserve their own lives?

No, the ritual must remain a secret, and that means that she can take only those who already know of it with her into Denerim. She wishes she could trust her other companions with it, but she simply cannot take the chance.

And a part of her fears that they will look at her differently if they know.

She sighs. It is the only rational choice. She just wishes it didn't mean having to stand with Loghain in battle. If there is anyone she would rather leave behind, it is him.

She's been doing her best to avoid all contact with him since that night, which has been hard enough on the forced march here, but will be impossible now that they must fight alongside each other.

She's felt his eyes on her more than once during the journey here, and it's been enough to bring the colour to her cheeks, both from the humiliation of his treatment of her, and from... other memories.

She swallows and forces the thoughts away before they can take hold. She must focus on the battle, and nothing else.

oOo

_Loghain is surprised when Kayla announces that he is to accompany her into the city, along with the marsh witch and, of course, Kayla's ever-faithful war hound._

_She hasn't been subtle in her avoidance of him ever since he all but chased her from his room. It should please him, that the ill-considered attachment he feared she was forming has been so successfully nipped in the bud._

_It should, and yet somehow it does not._

_He must be getting sentimental in his old age. He should attend to that. Sentiment has no place in war, and he will need all his wits about him for the battles to come._

oOo

The archdemon is down. Defeated. Dying.

The moment of truth is upon them.

After exchanging a glance with Morrigan, who nods her readiness, Kayla raises her twin blades and takes a determined step towards the dragon.

Loghain grips her arm, stopping her progress and turning her to face him. "Let me."

She laughs mirthlessly. "Looking for glory after all, Loghain?"

He scowls. "Glory? No. I care not who is hailed as the slayer of the archdemon."

"Then why do you care who takes the final blow?"

He glances at Morrigan. "I have less faith than you in the witch's ritual."

Kayla's eyes narrow. "And?"

His eyes return to her, and his expression softens. "If anyone should make this sacrifice, it ought to be me. I have lived my life; and, Maker knows, I have enough to atone for. You will be needed in the days to come, Kayla Cousland. I am expendable."

_Not to me. _The thought rises without warning from her subconscious, surprising her with its intensity. Kayla shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "It's not that simple."

Loghain smiles. "To me, it is." Before she can stop him, he charges towards the archdemon, his sword raised high above his head.

oOo

_As he plunges his sword into the archdemon's head, something intangible but overwhelming flows up the blade and into his body. Unimaginable pain fills him, and he howls in agony._

_With the little conscious thought that remains to him, he realises that the ritual has indeed failed, and he is dying._

_He accepts it without acrimony; better he than Kayla. At least he will die knowing that his last act was a good one._

_But then he feels the energy pass through him and from him, and he falls to the ground; weakened, every muscle aching, every nerve fibre still screaming with remembered pain; but alive._

_Morrigan gasps aloud, and with an effort he forces his eyes open; the witch is shaking, her hands pressed to her stomach, her eyes wide. A triumphant smile spreads across her face._

_Kayla drops to her knees beside him and, as if from a distance, he hears her cry out his name. A cool hand brushes across his forehead, causing already sensitive nerve endings to jangle._

"_I live, woman," he mumbles through dry, cracked lips. "Let me be."_

_He must be delirious from the effects of the archdemon's spirit passing through him; he could swear he hears her sob in relief._

oOo

As they make their way back down through Fort Drakon, they quietly discuss what story to tell of the archdemon's defeat.

Sooner or later, Grey Wardens from outside Ferelden will come; and they will have questions that cannot be easily answered. Kayla suggests adopting a policy of ignorance; as far as anyone else need know, they simply do not know why Loghain did not die when he took the final blow.

Loghain agrees, with one proviso; that Kayla be the one to publicly take credit for the archdemon's death. He refuses to accept any glory for defeating the creature.

Surprised, Kayla simply nods.

As they make their way through the city, to be met with tumultuous cheers from the men that are already sweeping through Denerim to mop up the few remaining darkspawn and put out the fires, Kayla realises that Morrigan is no longer with them.

Kayla hasn't always seen eye to eye with the apostate, but it still saddens her that Morrigan didn't even say goodbye.

oOo

_Loghain remains on the dais with his daughter as the coronation celebrations get under way. He'd almost forgotten how much he hated these formal affairs._

_He does his best to fade into the background as nobles and advisers take it in turns to approach their new queen. Anora, of course, takes it all in her stride – she always was a natural at this. He wonders, not for the first time, where she gets it from. Not from him, surely. And not from her mother, either: Celia was the daughter of a cabinet maker, and had hated the demands of court even more than he._

_His attention drifts across the crowded room, and lands on Kayla. He watches, fascinated, as she slowly circles the room, stopping to speak to everyone, friends and strangers alike, who want their moment with the Hero of Ferelden. She, too, seems to be a natural at this. She may think she is a noblewoman no more, but her blood and upbringing have never shown themselves more clearly to him._

_She has certainly never looked less the warrior. Clad in an elegant blue silk dress borrowed from Anora that brings out her eyes – and her figure – to perfection, she glides around the room as if dancing on air._

_As he follows her progress, he discerns her true intent in mingling with the crowd; she is seeking out each of her companions in turn. He watches as she clasps arms with the qunari and the dwarf; as she hugs the Circle mage and the Orlesian bard._

_He pays particular attention when she reaches the assassin._

_Loghain feels his muscles tensing and his eyes narrowing as the elf fawns over her; as he runs a hand lightly down her arm, and brushes away a strand of hair that had escaped from her intricate coiffure to fall across her eye. _

_They talk earnestly for a time, and then he leans in to whisper something into her ear, allowing his hand to linger on her hip as he does so._

_And instead of chastising the elf for his impertinence, she _laughs_, and he wonders just what it was the assassin whispered to cause such merriment._

_As Loghain watches, the assassin bows deeply to her, taking her hand in his and bringing it briefly to his lips, and then departs, moving in the direction of the nearest door._

_An unpleasant thought seizes Loghain. Were the whispers plans for an illicit rendezvous?_

_And why should that bother him so? He was the one who pushed her away, was he not? What business is it of his who she turns to for comfort?_

_But the thought of the assassin's hands on her, of him touching her in the most intimate ways, brings a sour taste to Loghain's mouth and a tightness to his chest._

_Curtly excusing himself to Anora, he strides to the door and heads for the guest chambers. The celebrations can go on without him._

oOo

Kayla scans the room, looking for Loghain. She has said her farewells to each of her friends; now that the archdemon is defeated, and life can begin to return to normal in Ferelden, they have each found something that calls them away.

Even her brother cannot stay; Fergus is setting out for Highever in the morning, to begin the task of restoring the teyrnir. She had cried in relief when she discovered that her brother lived, and their reunion has been all too brief. She wishes she could go with him, but Fergus insists that her duties as the acting Commander of the Grey in Ferelden should take precedence, and however much she wishes otherwise, she knows he is right.

As Grey Wardens, she and Loghain do not have the luxury of choosing their next adventure, as all her friends have done. Their paths remain entwined by the nature of their shared calling; Anora has granted the arling of Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens, and there they must begin the order anew.

She thinks it ironic that, of them all, Loghain is the only one not leaving her. All her loyal companions have found other places to be, other causes needing their attention.

She had intended to speak to Loghain – it would look odd if she did not – but she has postponed it too long, it seems. When last she looked, he was still standing, stiff and uncomfortable, beside Anora, where he has been all evening. But when she makes her way toward the dais, he is no longer there.

Perhaps it is for the best. She is still unsure what to make of his insistence that he be the one to kill the archdemon, in the belief that Morrigan's ritual might fail. She has tried her best to harden her heart against him, but in that moment when she'd thought him dead atop Fort Drakon, she'd realised she was far from indifferent to his fate.

Damn the man! If only he wasn't always around, she would be able to purge him from her thoughts. But no, that would be too simple. It seems she's stuck with him, like it or not.

Bann Teagan intercepts her, and she smiles politely and makes conversation with him, but she finds she is weary of being the centre of attention. As soon as she can manage it without offence, she excuses herself to Teagan, and makes for the door.

As it closes behind her, she slips out of the formal, uncomfortable shoes with a small sigh of relief, and walks barefooted to the chamber Anora had set aside for her use, her shoes dangling lightly from one hand.

It will be even more of a relief to get out of this silly dress, and let her hair down.

The corridors are blissfully quiet, and she reaches her rooms without meeting anyone but servants and guards.

She enters her bedchamber, relaxing at the thought of finally attaining some peace and privacy.

When the tall figure moves out of the shadows in the corner of the chamber and pushes the door shut behind her, it catches her completely by surprise, and the shoes slip from her grasp and fall to the floor with a thud.

oOo

"_You are meeting him here, then?" Loghain asks quietly. "In your own chamber? How very brazen of you."_

_Confusion and annoyance fill her eyes. "Meeting who? What are you talking about? And what are you _doing_ here?"_

_Loghain lets out a bitter laugh. "Don't play games with me, girl. It was plain for all to see that you meant to take the assassin to your bed. He could not keep his hands off you, and you did nothing to discourage him. He left the celebrations early, immediately after speaking to you; and shortly after that, here you are." His lip curls as he glances down at her discarded shoes. "Couldn't even wait to attain the privacy of your chamber to begin disrobing, I see."_

_She stares at him in shock, and then suddenly laughs. "You think I... with _Zevran_?" Her laughter doubles as his eyes narrow in suspicion at her denial. "Have you lost your _mind_?"_

_He grabs her arm and pulls her roughly toward him, and her laughter dies away as he glares down at her. "Why else would you flirt with him so?"_

"Zev_ was the one flirting, not I," she retorts, sounding angry now. "He flirts with _everyone_, Loghain, you must know that. You've _seen_ him. He flirts with me, with Leliana, even with Wynne. Maker's blood, he even used to flirt with _Alistair_. It's just who he is."_

"_Then what were the two of you discussing so intimately?" he growls._

_She shakes her head. "It was nothing important. He's leaving, we were just saying our farewells."_

_He leans closer, his hand clenching around her arm. "Not good enough. Tell me, or I swear, I—"_

"_You'll what?" Kayla demands furiously, her eyes flashing fire. "You'll beat it out of me? Damn you, Loghain, you're _hurting_ me. Let go of me!"_

_He growls incoherently, and pushes her away from him. She almost stumbles, but her natural nimbleness keeps her on her feet, and she faces him, breathing hard. Her bosom heaves beneath the sleek silken dress._

_The darkness rises in him, feeding both his fury and his lust, and he has an overwhelming urge to tear the dress from her, exposing the lithe body beneath. If she is so eager for a man's touch tonight, then let it be his. She wanted him before, and now he wants her._

_His desire is like a living thing, with a will of its own; and it will not be denied._

_Before he knows what is happening, he has caught her by the arms again and is propelling her towards the bed. Gripping both her wrists in one hand, he pushes her down, holding her hands above her head, and pins her there with his body weight as he tugs frenziedly at the dress with his free hand._

"_Maker's blood, Loghain, get off me!" Kayla spits furiously, struggling vainly to free herself. "What's _wrong_ with you?"_

_Answering the dark fury that swells inside him at her resistance, he backhands her; she gasps, her eyes widening in pain and shock. She lets out another shuddering gasp as he pulls at her smallclothes._

"_Loghain!" she cries, and the stark fear in her voice finally shocks him back to sanity. "Stop! Please, don't..."_

_For a moment time slows to a halt, as he looks down on the woman trembling beneath him, seeing the dread in her eyes. And then the full weight of what he is doing crashes in on him, bringing with it a sick feeling that roils through him._

_Had her cry not reached him... _

_He pushes himself away from her in horror, whirling towards the window. "Maker forgive me," he whispers. _

_What is the cause of this blackness that wells up in him when he succumbs to his lust for this woman? Is it the darkspawn taint, working its way into his very being? Or has it always been there, just waiting to be let out?_

_Is he, after all, the monster they all believed him to be?_

_He steals a glance behind him; she is crumpled into a heap at the foot of the bed, shivering, tears falling silently from her eyes. Her fine dress is rumpled, her hair in disarray. She will not look at him, but he can hardly blame her for that._

_He slowly turns and faces her. He owes her an apology he can never put into words. How do you apologise for what he has done to her? 'I'm sorry' is laughably inadequate; 'Forgive me' even more so. There can be no forgiveness, not for this._

_All he can do is make certain it can never happen again._

"_I will be gone by the morning," he tells her brusquely. "You need never see me again."_

_He strides towards the door, but he barely touches it before her tremulous voice calls him to a halt._

"_Wait."_

oOo

She has surely lost her senses. She could just let him go, and be rid of him forever.

Wasn't that what she wanted?

Especially now, with the feel of his rough hands still on her body, and the voice inside her head shrieking at her to _Run! Get away from him!_

But the pain in his voice as he told her she would never see him again tugged at something deep inside her, compelling her to speak.

He turns his head slowly towards her, and she can see the anguish written clearly in his face. "I dare not," he says hollowly.

"Wait," Kayla repeats, her voice far firmer than it has a right to sound. His eyes plead with her to let him go, and yet he stays.

Shakily, she tries to get to her feet, and Loghain takes a step toward her, as if to help her up. She flinches from him, and he steps back with a pained expression.

She finds her footing, and leans against the bed, trembling. She takes a deep breath, and faces him.

"Where... where would you go? You are still a Grey Warden, or have you forgotten that? Will you, too, abandon your duty to the Wardens and simply leave?" She can hear the shake in her own voice, and closes her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some measure of control.

"I will report to Weisshaupt," he says wearily. "We both know they will have questions about how it is we managed to defeat the archdemon and both survive. I will answer those questions."

Her eyes fly open in shock. "But... we agreed—"

"I will tell them you knew nothing of the ritual," he interrupts her. "Let them think I did it solely to save my own skin." He smiles bitterly. "I don't imagine they will have any trouble believing it. I am sure my reputation precedes me." The smile fades, and sadness clouds his eyes. "In this small way, I can protect you: both from their questions, and..." He looks away, and finishes in a quiet tone that almost sounds like a sigh, "from me."

She shakes her head in confusion. "You are a man of many contradictions, Loghain Mac Tir. How can you..." She swallows tightly. "...Do... what you just did, and then the next moment make such a selfless gesture?"

He lets out a humourless laugh. "Selfless, now, is it?" His eyes seek hers. "You called me _worthless_, once," he says flatly. "It seems to me you were right."

She frowns, and shakes her head. "No. No, I wasn't. Loghain, _talk_ to me. For once, just tell me what's going on inside that thick skull of yours!"

Pain fills his eyes. "You must let me go, Kayla Cousland. For your sake, if not for mine. I have no wish to hurt you."

"Fine words," she snaps at him, her frustration getting the better of her, "for someone who... who almost..." She trails off, shaking.

"I know what I _almost_ did!" he snarls. "That's why I would go!"

She swallows convulsively, then takes a tentative step towards him, doing her best to control her trembling.

He retreats from her, something akin to fear on his own face, but then his back is against the closed door and he can go no further. He watches in wary disbelief as she slowly lays her hand on his cheek.

"I just want to understand," she whispers. "That's not who you are, Loghain, I _know_ it isn't. So why?"

He grabs her wrist and snatches her hand away from his face as if it burns him; she flinches at the touch, and he hurriedly lets her go. "You think you know me?" He laughs bitterly. "How could you know me, when I scarcely know myself?" He turns his head away from her. "What I _do_ I know is that, whenever I am alone with you, my darkest passions seem to take hold. Tonight, lust and anger combined into a kind of madness, and I..." He grimaces, and slowly meets her gaze. "I lost control. As you saw."

She shudders involuntarily, and then makes an effort to still herself. "Why were you angry at me?" she asks quietly.

oOo

_He shakes his head. "Not at you alone." He clenches his fists; merely thinking of it has that anger rising again, and it is only with a conscious effort that he controls it. He swallows, and looks her squarely in the eye. "Seeing the assassin touching you so familiarly, it..." He takes a deep breath. Talking about his feelings does not come naturally; he has never been one to share his innermost thoughts easily, not even with those closest to him. But these feelings have to be aired, he realises: keeping them buried has only fed the beast within and allowed it to grow._

"_I became jealous," he says at last, the words clipped and precise. "Insanely so, one might say." He gives her a thin smile. "I could think of little else but him laying his hands upon you, and the thought of you parting your legs for him..." He exhales slowly, and forces his fists to unclench. "I don't know what I thought to achieve by coming here. I suppose there wasn't much thought involved, truth be told."_

_Her eyes have widened in understanding as he spoke, and now she nods slowly, and then hesitantly returns her hand to his cheek. "There is nothing between Zevran and I," she says quietly. "I need you to know that, and believe it." She smiles wryly at him. "I know he would have it otherwise, and I can't help that, but all he is to me is a very dear friend."_

_Some of the tension eases out of him, but he shakes his head. "You owe me no explanations."_

"_Perhaps not," she agrees softly. "But still, I wanted you to know that." She hesitates, and then says, "I do find it strange, though, that you would be jealous." She lets her hand fall, and her tone grows colder. "You are, after all, the one who dismissed me from your bed when you were done with me, like some cheap whore. I fail to see why you would care if I sought satisfaction elsewhere."_

_He gapes at her. "Like some cheap...?" Maker's mercy, is that what she thought? _

_He runs back over the scene in his mind, and groans aloud. Yes, of course she did. Why wouldn't she?_

"_It was not my intention to make you feel cheapened," he assures her. "Although I see now how it must have seemed that way to you."_

"_Then what _was_ your intention, Loghain?" she demands hotly._

_He smiles mirthlessly. "I feared you saw only the legend, and not the man. I sought to prevent you from falling in love with a fantasy." He laughs; a hollow, bitter sound. "I thought to protect your heart from harm, but now I think that perhaps it was mine that was in danger."_

_Her eyes widen. "W-what do you mean?"_

_He meets her gaze steadily. "I mean that men rarely fly into jealous rages over women they have no interest in."_

_A faint blush spreads across her cheek, but her expression remains angry. "Andraste's flaming sword, Loghain! If you had just _told_ me this, _any_ of it, before... before..." Tears fill her eyes and she backs away from him, shaking._

"_Before I allowed the monster inside to take control of me," he finishes for her. "Before you saw what I really am." He smiles, but inside he is screaming, for he sees the true irony now. If he had not pushed her away to begin with, perhaps she would have been in his arms, in his bed, this very night. _

_Instead, he tried to take by force what might otherwise have been willingly given, and in doing so, he has pushed her away forever. She will not be able to bear his touch now, and rightly so._

"_You see, then, why I must take my leave?" he says, forcing a calmness he doesn't feel into his voice. "I cannot trust myself around you, and I will not be responsible for hurting you again."_

"_And you don't think it will hurt me to see you go?" she cries. "They're all leaving, Loghain, all of them! I thought that at least you..." She chokes back a small sob, and he stares at her, stricken by the look of desolation in her eyes._

"_How can I stay?" he asks dully. "How can you even bear to be in the same room as me, after..." He turns from her and slams his fist against the wall, welcoming the pain that shoots up his arm. Better his pain than hers. "How do you know it won't happen again?" He looks round at her, allowing his fear to show on his face. "And if it does, how do you know that, next time, your words will be enough to stop me?"_

"_I don't," she whispers. "But I do know that when I think about you walking out that door, think about never seeing you again... _that_ hurts."_

_He shrugs helplessly. "What would you have me do, then? We both know I can never take back what happened tonight."_

_Her eyes flash angrily. "Go then! Run away, like you did at Ostagar! At least this time I will be the only casualty you leave behind!" She turns her back on him and walks towards the window._

_Loghain shakes with sudden fury. Damn her, is she _trying_ to make him angry? Does she have no sense of self-preservation at all?_

_Unable to contain himself, he strides across the room towards her and grabs her shoulders, whirling her around to face him. "You think me a coward, then?" His voice is ice cold._

_She gasps at the unexpected contact, and there is fear in her eyes as she looks at him; but then she stiffens and her gaze hardens, and the only evidence of her fear is the slightest tremor in her voice. "What else would you call it? You would rather run from what's happened than try to fix it!"_

"_How _can_ I fix it?" he demands angrily. "There is no mending the trust that I have broken."_

"_Do you even want to?" she retorts._

_He swallows convulsively, feeling as though he is balanced on a knife edge. "More than you know," he admits._

"_Then prove it!" Her eyes are bright with unshed tears as she looks up at him._

oOo

Kayla sees Loghain's shoulders slump in defeat, and she tries to pull away from him. If he is set on walking out of her life, then so be it, but she has no wish to watch him go. Nor does she intend to let him see her weep.

To her frustration, he thwarts her by keeping a firm hold on her shoulders. Alarmed, she looks into his eyes, but she sees none of the earlier rage.

He regards her silently for a moment, and then his expression softens. "You should ask my daughter to allow you to keep that dress," he says, which is just about the last thing she expected from him. "It looks well on you."

The simple compliment throws her completely. "I... uh... thank you," is all she can manage in response. She looks down at the dress, and unconsciously smooths some of the wrinkles out of the silk. "But I don't suppose there will be much call for fine dresses at Amaranthine." She swallows hard, and her hands clutch involuntarily at the material. "And I doubt I would ever be able to wear it without remembering..."

He grimaces. "Of course. Forgive me, I was not thinking clearly. A common failing of late, it seems." He sighs heavily. "A pity, though. You looked so lovely at the celebrations tonight."

Kayla stares at him in amazement, feeling her cheeks flush. "Now you're just teasing me," she mutters.

"Not at all. You were the most beautiful woman there."

Now she's gaping at him like a half-wit. "B-beautiful? Me?" She looks down at her feet. "I'm hardly that."

He's called her pretty before, she remembers, and she thought then he was mocking her. She's never thought of herself as attractive; her nose is a just a little too short, her eyes a little too big, her hair too short, her jaw too square, her arms too muscular.

Loghain takes one hand from her shoulder and gently lifts her chin back up so that she is looking at him. "I beg to differ," he says quietly, and there is not a trace of mockery in his eyes or his voice.

oOo

_Loghain holds Kayla's gaze as she stares at him; she has, for a wonder, been rendered temporarily speechless._

_He wonders which of them is crazier; he for thinking he has any chance of making her happy, or she for refusing to let him go._

_The whole idea is simply insane. He is a cynical old man, who has always put duty above all else; he believes in war, not love. She is a vibrant, fearless young warrior who inspires everyone around her to be better than they are; everyone, it seems, except him._

_But he looks into her eyes, and decides that perhaps sanity is overrated._

"_There is one thing I must know," he asks softly. "Why? After all I have done to you, why would you want me to stay?"_

_She sucks in a shaky breath and pulls away from him to prowl the room like a caged lioness. Without looking at him, she speaks slowly, considering each word carefully. "Everyone expects me to be strong. And I've _had_ to be. Ever since..." She hesitates, flicking him a glance. "Ever since Ostagar, I've had to be strong for everyone else. For Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana, Zevran, all of them; they all needed things from me. Arl Eamon, the elves, the dwarves, the Circle – even your daughter. Everyone needed me to be strong, and get things done which others could not. Or would not." _

_She stops, and gives him a steady look. "In all that time, you were the only one I never had to be strong for. You were the only one who was ever strong for _me_." She lets out a tiny sigh. "And I need that, Loghain. I need _you_."_

_He nods, slowly. That much, he can understand. _

_Perhaps they do have something in common, after all._

_He reaches out to her, and pulls her gently into his arms, careful not to make the gesture seem threatening. She stiffens all the same, but allows him the embrace._

_It will take time – a long, long time – before she is comfortable with him again. Perhaps she never will be, and he wouldn't blame her for that._

_And he is going to have to keep a tight rein on his emotions and desires, to ensure that he never frightens or harms her again._

_But nothing worthwhile comes without effort._


End file.
